Project Reclamation
by boydman18
Summary: As the fighting dwindles down to sporadic conflicts within the Red Zones, I am proud to announce the beginning of Project Reclamation. This Project is an effort to discover and catalog the words and deeds of all the brave souls who soldiered on.
1. Chapter 1

**Project Reclamation  
****Fort Apache  
****Case WV-21  
****Case Officer: Michelle Rickens  
****08312032**

**Subject: **Nathan Bedford

**Details: **Born 1983 or 1984; 32 at time of recording, would be 48 or 49 today, no record found on subject

**Source**: Cassette Tape **Duration**: 00:09:24

**Date of Source: **06122016

**Location**: Red Zone 6 – Section 9; Fairmont, West Virginia

**Comments**: Sweeper Team 3, Fort Apache, Capt. William Armistead, Reclamation Officer Paula Mansetti

Tape found in hallway of radio station; As subject mentions, site of heavy engagement, Capt. Armistead reports at least four hundred bodies in concentrated area, flagged for future disposal; Evidence on scene suggests subject likely present at least 6 years after engagement; Reference to site outside of Romney likely Fort Morgan, other references are too vague for analysis; No record found on subject Michael Grady; Subject witness to the move southward in 2016; No sign of subject found at scene, escape likely; Capt. Armistead reports minimal encounter with zack, no hostiles observed within designated area

**Transcript**

Testing.

Testing 1-2-3.

Sibilance, sibilance, sibilance. (Laughter)

(Long pause)

My name is Nathan Bedford and the date is June 12, 2016. I haven't spoken to a live human being for close to a year now, and this tape recorder might be the closest I ever get again. By the looks of things, this used to be a country station and as I'm sure you noticed, some roughnecks made one hell of a stand here. I counted about 300 shitsacks outside, and another 50 or so scattered throughout the building. Smell is almost non-existent, so all this must have happened a good ways back, probably right after all the shit went down.

(Long pause)

I seen so many places like this while I been wandering around, makes me glad I finally struck out alone. What hurts is lookin around a bit and bein able to tell exactly what happened. One place outside of Romney was totally secure, outer walls intact, no shitsacks in sight, all that good stuff. I jump the gate, there's about two dozen bodies fresh enough to still stink lying all over the place in the fetal position. I look around, there's plenty of guns but no ammo, and not one scrap of food. Even the leather on the boots had been eaten. Somethin must have caught zack's attention and they chased after it instead of poundin on the walls tryin to get to a meal that was no longer on the menu. I saw what was left of three kids inside one of the bedrooms. It's the kids that still get to me, but that's about the only thing anymore. I've seen that same scenario repeated about a dozen times. Hard to judge whats easier, starving to death or goin along with what zack has in mind.

(Long pause)

I had it good here lately, just scroungin around all over the county only running into a few stragglers here and there. Then a few weeks ago, I'm up in my tower and I hear something carryin on the wind. I put the binoculars to the north and the countryside is littered with em. Must have been at least a few thousand all headed south toward my simple ass. Zack is apparently a migratory species. (Laughter)

So I'm on the run . . . again, and I'm just as pissed now as I was when the shit came down in the first place. Most people got depressed as hell, with all the suicides and shit, but me, I just got madder than fuck. One night I got whiskey bent and grabbed a machete, determined to butcher every shitsack in a ten mile radius. Most of that night is still hazy, but I was cutting up zack long enough that I had time to sober up and think to myself, "Well this is fuckin stupid." I still don't know how the hell I kept from getting bit, but the funny part is I about got smoked comin back to the refugee camp because I was covered in blood and still half stumblin from the liquor. If the sentry hadn't been a piss your pants teenager who shook like hell when he pulled the trigger, I'd likely have had another hole to breathe out of. I never did thank him for being such a shitty shot, because the damn camp was overrun a week later and so far as I know, I'm the only one that got out. Lucky me.

(Long pause)

I don't know what else to blame for me still bein here other than luck. Bout three years ago me and Michael Grady both got brought down by the biggest goddamn zack I ever saw. Fucker was over 7 foot easy and even with most of his guts missin must have weighed 350 pounds. Me and Mike were just stunned when this bastard put us both on the ground, and I think zack was too. He glanced at both of us for about two seconds then chomped on Mike's throat. He must have liked the taste of that mick bastard pretty well because he let go of me and kept workin on the rest of Mike's face. Gave me time to reach my pistol and end it for both of them. How do you explain something li . . .

(Sound of glass shattering, moaning in background)

Oh, goddamnit!

(Two shots fired)

(Long pause)

Fuckin zack must have been stuck in that little studio this whole time cuz he was a ripe lookin bastard, must have heard me narrating my little tale here because he just all of a sudden busted through the glass across the hall and now it fuckin stinks in here! You asshole! I should have done a more thorough check anyway, just getting sloppy in my old age I guess. (Laughter) Who would have thought I'd be over the hill at 32. (Laughter)

(Long pause)

If it wasn't for the fuckin smell this life would almost be tolerable. But these bastards have to smell like stepped in shit when you open em up and its enough to piss a man off. Now, what the hell was I babblin about . . . oh yeah, luck. Take our most recent experience here, how is it that I happened to be sitting against this wall with the tape recorder instead of the other wall right in front of me, which very well may have gotten me killed. I can't explain it, I've survived a million close encounters, with skill only bein able to account for a handful of em. I don't know, I can't explain it. If you're hearin this chances are good you have the same questions I do

(Long pause)

Truth be told, I'm gettin tired, cause this shits getting old. Always movin, always runnin, holin up for maybe a week or a month only to have to run again. Gets boring really, the same routine, day in and day out. This one time I found a rubix cube and I figured that would keep me amused till I died of old age but I solved the damn thing in less than a day. I was so amazed I got it I almost didn't notice a pair of zacks creepin up behind me. If they hadn't moaned once they got close, my story might have ended two years ago. When I wasn't on the move, I did more puzzles than I can even remember. That first camp I was at raided a shopping mall and came back with about a hundred or so jigsaw puzzles, all of em' hard ones like a thousand pieces or more. Some prick with a psychology degree must have been worried about morale or some shit. They lasted six days before they were all put together, and we were still at each others throats afterwards. So much for pricks with psychology degrees.

(Long pause)

I don't . . . I just don't know what to think anymore. There doesn't seem to be much difference between me and zack. They move around, doin their damnedest to get what they need and I basically do the same. The only real difference is I scream and cuss a hell of a lot more in between.

(Muffled sounds, as if from a distance)

Well fuck, it appears as though there's still a few shitsacks left in the area. I shouldn't have shot that one bastard, but he pissed me off, so fuck him.

(Sound of breaking glass, followed by moans)

(Laughter)

Well I guess my rest is over, but have no fear loyal listener, your humble narrator Nathan Bedford has a well maintained SKS and a clear way out the back. Hope the world has righted itself by the time you hear this, if not, good luck and good hunting.

(Moaning from multiple sources)

**End of Recording**


	2. Chapter 2

**Project Reclamation**

**Camp Pickett**

**Case NC – 18**

**Case Officer: Hector Garza**

**09012032**

**SENSITIVE MATERIAL – LEVEL 3**

**Subject: **Officer DeMarcus Hughes – Charlotte Police Department, 2nd Pr.

Cameraman – (Unidentified Caucasian male)

**Details: **Born June 2, 1985 – Died September 24, 2010, Charlotte PD's surviving records indicate two citations for bravery, numerous awards for marksmanship, no family found in Survivors' Registry.

**Source: **Digital Video **Duration: **00:31:02

**Date of Source: **09242010

**Location: **Charlotte, North Carolina

**Comments: **Salvage Crew – 3rd Shift, Camp Pickett, Foreman James Weston, Submitted to Case Officer Hector Garza

Handheld camera found under debris from West 8th St., one mile from Washington Ave. barricade in downtown Charlotte; Tech crew could only retrieve partial from drive; The camera man seemingly has lost all rational thought as he continues to film throughout the ordeal for no apparent reason, Officer Hughes barely makes mention of this fact in the surviving footage; Officers Brendan Tate, Vance Call, Sergeant Richard Fuentes, and Captain Michael Cogletti of Charlotte PD 2nd Pr. are confirmed KIA by Officer Hughes and video evidence, in agreement with records; First voice on radio (Joe) cannot be identified , but second voice on radio confirmed as Lt. Col. Jacob Mosby of 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, after voice recognition check; Direct evidence places Lt. Col. Mosby just outside of Charlotte, which contradicts eye witness testimony of Vice President Derrick Posey, and numerous other high ranking officials

**RECCOMENDATION: Maintain record as Sensitive Material – Level 3 until further investigation can be completed. AUTHORIZATION: 6954HGNC1890132**

**Transcript:**

(The video starts abruptly just behind the barricade on Washington Avenue. Automatic gunfire is mixed with a variety of different small arms in the background, and there is a haze of smoke as several buildings in the foreground are ablaze. Officer DeMarcus Hughes stands behind a concrete barrier firing an HK416 assault rifle into a crowd of zack that are pushing their way over the makeshift barrier. Hughes is dressed in full tactical gear that is filthy and torn in several places, but he otherwise looks unharmed. Several bloodied bodies dressed in a similar fashion are being dragged over the wall still screaming or lying on the ground around him. Hughes begins backpedaling away from the barrier as he changes the clip in his weapon, when one of the fallen officers reaches towards his right foot.)

**Hughes: **Goddamnit Vance, not you too!

(Hughes fires one round through the top of Officer Call's head, and begins running toward the camera.)

**Hughes: **You fuckin' blind asshole? We gotta go now!

(The camera turns and follows Hughes as he runs towards a police car sitting at an angle with an open driver's side door about fifty yards behind the barricade. About halfway, Hughes drops to one knee and fires three quick rounds from his rifle towards three zack in tattered police uniforms gathered next to the vehicle, dropping all three of them. As he reaches the car, the camera catches up to him and Hughes grabs the radio off the seat.)

**Hughes**: This is Officer Demarcus Hughes on Washington Avenue, Capt. Cogletti is gone. Repeat, Cogletti is gone. So are Tate, Call and Sgt. Fuentes. Everyone else bugged out. Advise. Over.

(Dropping the radio back down on the seat, Hughes lays his rifle over the roof of the police car and fires several rounds towards the crowd that is now swarming around what is left of the barricade. The camera turns towards his targets and watches as a dozen zack that have crawled over the wall drop from headshots. The radio crackles to life after Hughes finishes firing.)

**Voice #1**: Hughes! Get out! We're completely overrun, the National Guard are all dead, and they've broken through the front door. Get the fu…(Static)

(Hughes picks up the radio)

**Hughes**: Joe! Come in, Joe! Shit, behind you!

(Hughes points towards the camera, and the cameraman spins around in time to see two zack who are only a few feet away. The camera man's right hand emerges on screen holding a .45, which he fires on the two targets, hitting them both in the head. The camera turns back and sees Hughes firing across the hood at several dozen zack who are now halfway to the police car. Zack is pouring across the barrier, which is now in total shambles. Hughes looks toward the camera as he stops firing and reaches down to grab the radio.)

**Hughes**: We can't stay here, let's move, and for God's sake get rid of that stupid camera!

(Hughes turns from the car and begins running down Washington Avenue carrying his rifle in one hand and using the other to hold the radio while he screams unintelligibly. The cameraman is running right behind him, just barely keeping up. The street is mostly clear of debris as most of it appears to have been pushed to the side on the sidewalks. As they run past a large department store, there is a loud feminine scream and a woman comes stumbling out of one of the large storefront windows. She looks up towards the cameraman, showing the fact that the left side of her face is torn open and her eyeball is hanging out of the socket. Hughes slows down a step to shoot the woman in the head, then they keep running.)

After pocketing the radio, Hughes pauses at the corner of the street, placing his body up against the brick wall of the building and slowly sticks his head out to look around. He abruptly jumps out and fires two rounds from his rifle then throws the weapon to the pavement. As he turns towards the camera, he unholsters his sidearm, a Glock .40, to draw back the slide to chamber the first round.

**Hughes**: Let's go while it's still clear, I know a pla …

(The radio erupts into static in Hughes' pocket, then a voice comes through.)

**Mosby**: Officer Hughes, this is Lt. Col. Jacob Mosby with the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, do you copy?

(Hughes motions towards the camera to follow him, and they both start jogging down the street away from Washington Ave. as he digs the radio out his pocket to answer. Loud moaning from hundreds of sources can be heard in the distance behind them.)

**Hughes: **Copy Colonel, this is Officer Hughes. Go ahead.

**Mosby**: What is your sitrep officer?

**Hughes: **Barricade on Washington Ave. is completely overrun. My team is dead, and our fallback position at the federal building is compromised. I've got the deader half of the city right behind me trying to eat my ass, and some idiot following me with a video camera. My sitrep is completely fucked sir.

**Mosby**: What is your current position?

(Hughes and the camera run to the other side of a guard shack outside of an open parking lot. Hughes pulls up his weapon and fires at a zack on the ground that is crawling toward them. He then checks his surroundings, spotting some street signs and answers Mosby.)

**Hughes: **I'm at the corner of West 8th St. and Jordan Avenue.

**Mosby: **Find some place to hole up, we're going to open up the outer walls at the First National Bank building in three minutes and try to draw the bastards out of the city. They're gonna be thick in your neck of the woods in a hurry once we get started, so you better find some place …

**Hughes: **Negative! I'm done with this "Fortress Charlotte" shit, I want out.

**Mosby: **Fine, just keep working your way west toward the bank building. Recon says the bastards are pretty scattered between your position and there, but they're coming up right behind you in a hurry, which is exactly what we want. Try to link up with my Piper team if you can, if not, hide out and watch the fireworks.

**Hughes**: Piper team? Fireworks? What the hell are you talking about?

(Laughter over the radio)

**Mosby: **You'll find out soon enough, now as you can imagine, I've got some work to do. See you on the other side Officer Hughes.

(The camera stays focused on Hughes as a confused look passes his face. He shakes his head and places the radio back in his pocket. He then looks toward the camera.)

**Hughes: **Well . . . shit. Guess we head west then. Just in case we don't make it, I want you to know you're a really strange individual.

(The cameraman reaches out his right hand while still holding the camera with his left, and Hughes smiles as he returns the gesture and shakes his hand. Hughes then leans around the corner of the guard shack and fires off four rounds at an unseen target. The camera follows Hughes as he takes off running down West 8th St. Dozens of vehicles of different makes and models are scattered up and down the road. The camera shows several bodies lying on the ground, all down with headshots. Hughes moves in quick bursts between the various obstructions, keeping his pistol up the whole time, pausing at each abandoned car for a brief moment to watch for targets ahead. As Hughes and the camera pass by a jacked up SUV with the side covered in blood, a large man lunges out the open driver's side door directly in front of both of them. Hughes stumbles over the zack and loses his pistol in the process. He appears stunned as zack crawls over top of him, when the cameraman draws his .45 and blows the top of his head off. Hughes rolls what's left of the zack off him, sits up and looks toward the camera.

**Hughes**: Glad to know you're good for something. Let's keep moving.

(Hughes gets to his feet, retrieving his pistol in the process. Blood from the zack covers his entire left shoulder, and a look of pain crosses his face as he stretches his left arm. He shakes it off and begins running farther down the street with the camera keeping pace just behind him. Entering the next intersection, two recently turned zack emerge from behind a concrete barrier, both still chewing on gore from their victim just out of sight. The camera focuses on the two targets as rounds from Hughes' pistol enter the bridges of both their noses in a little over a second. Both drop instantly and Hughes picks up the pace to cover the rest of the street up to the next intersection. A series of loud explosions erupts farther down the road, the sound exceeded only by the collective moan that follows, seemingly coming from the streets themselves. Hughes turns back to look down the street, then quickly ducks down behind a newspaper stand. The camera pans back from where they came, and the crowd from the shattered barrier is no more than a quarter mile behind them, clawing their way toward them.

**Hughes**: Oh Christ, they blew the damn wall by the bank building. That explosion will draw every damn one of them in the city. What the hell is that crazy colonel trying to do?

(Hughes and the cameraman catch their breath and resume running down the street, only pausing for Hughes to put down five zack standing in their path with five well placed shots. The camera catches the slide going back on his Glock, and Hughes changes the clip in one fluid motion.

**Hughes: **Two clips left, better hope those Marines are where they're supposed to be or we're in serious trouble. The bank's just up ahead.

(The road ends abruptly as the two of them arrive at an open park. Hughes gestures up towards a large building just beyond the park with smoke billowing out from behind it.)

**Hughes**: There's the bank, and that must be the part of the outer wall they blew open off to the side, and . . . awww fuck.

(The camera pans towards the side streets in front of the building off to the far side of the park. As it zooms in, hundreds of zack are seen pouring out toward the bank. The camera then turns back towards the road they came from, and the large crowd of zack is closing the gap, now only a few hundred yards away. They now face large crowds of hostiles on two sides, with both groups converging on their position. Hughes sighs very loudly then speaks in a calm, quiet manner.)

**Hughes: **We have to find a place to hide out. We're not gonna make it.

(The cameraman points towards a large old fashioned building on the other end of the park away from the bank. Hughes nods and they both begin running toward what appears to be a former church made of stone. They cover the ground quickly without running into any hostiles, finding the front door wide open. Hughes raises his pistol as they enter, seeing two zack feeding on a victim in front of a large podium. Hughes' first shot goes wide left, missing the first one by three feet. He groans loudly as the two zack stand and begin shuffling towards him and the camera. Daylight pours in through shattered windows and illuminates the two zack, their features unrecognizable through all the blood and gore. Hughes is still groaning as he drops to one knee, firing again, this time staggering the closest one as he hits him in the shoulder. The cameraman raises his .45 and fires twice, catching both targets square in the forehead. Hughes looks back to the camera while rubbing his left shoulder. He looks at his hand and it's covered in blood. A sad smile crosses his face as he stands.)

**Hughes**: Let's get up in the tower at the top of the church, then we'll catch a breather. I used to come here with my dad, there's a stairwell leading up the back to the landing above the bells. We'll see what the hell is going on over at the bank. Maybe we can signal those Marines somehow. Sound good?

(Hughes is in visible pain as he makes his way toward the rear of the church. They open a small door to find a narrow spiral staircase leading straight up. Hughes latches the door then leads the way with the cameraman right behind him. After a minute, they reach the top, then open the hatch which leads to the uppermost level of the tower The floor is about ten feet by teen feet, complete with roof and a view that covers the entire park as well as several of the surrounding buildings, including the bank about five hundred yards out. Hughes stumbles over towards one corner of the platform and collapses, lying with his back up against the wall. His breathing is labored as he slowly removes his bloody tactical gear, revealing a large bite wound on the left side of his neck just above the shoulder that is bleeding freely.)

**Hughes:** Well, well, well. Guess that big fella got more than my collar. (He sighs deeply.) No riding off into the sunset for me.

(Hughes closes his eyes and leans his head back, when the sound of a helicopter gradually becomes clear over the distant moans and gunfire. The camera turns towards the bank building, whose bottom floor is now teeming with hundreds of zack. Panning up, a UH-1 utility helicopter with USMC markings is visible hovering roughly twenty feet above the top of the bank building. The camera zooms in slightly as two lines are dropped from the chopper down to the rooftop, after which the helicopter remains in place. There is a groan followed by footsteps as Officer Hughes steps beside the cameraman.)

**Hughes: **What the hell are they doing?

(Several minutes pass as the chopper remains in place, with the camera panning down a few times to reveal the increased size of the crowd gathered around the bank building. Hundreds more zack have made their way to the bank building, putting the total numbers into the thousands with more and more forcing their way into the building. The camera turns toward Hughes as he begins quietly laughing.)

**Hughes:** I thought I had it bad. I'd hate to be one of the poor idiots stuck in . . .

(A quizzical look passes his face and the camera turns back toward the top of the bank building, where two figures have emerged from one of the stairwell doors and are running toward the two lines set out by the chopper. They briefly pause at the bottom of the lines as though checking something, then begin climbing up, the pilot not even waiting for them to reach the cabin as he starts to peel off away from the city.)

**Hughes: **Now what was the point of all that?

(The camera zooms out just as several small explosions erupt across different floors of the building, blasting debris out of windows and raining down on the thousands of zack below. After a few seconds more of rippling explosions, the entire building is struck by a barrage of explosions at several angles, as if under heavy artillery fire. The effect is immediate, and the forty-five story structure is seen toppling toward the far side of the park just before a huge wall of dust and smoke completely engulfs the entire vicinity.)

**Hughes: **Holy fuck! Get back in the stairwell!

(The noise from the artillery strike and the collapse of the building completely floods the camera's audio as Hughes and the camera man jump back down the hatch into the spiral staircase. Several objects are heard raining down on the roof, and the entire church shakes as the last of the massive building comes down just a short distance away.)

**End of Recording**


End file.
